


Duty of Care

by Ginia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ignis!Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia
Summary: Even the most devoted, self-sacrificing retainer has limits. When Ignis reaches his it's up to Noctis to ensure that his oldest friend receives the care and consideration that he deserves.





	Duty of Care

**Author's Note:**

> One of the prompts I fulfilled on tumblr as a way to escape the Episode Ignis trailer blues. This one turned out long enough that it seemed reasonable to cross-post it here, too. <3

The digital numbers on Ignis’s alarm clock flick to 5:00am and on cue incessant beeping shatters the silence of his small apartment.

With a jolt the eighteen-year-old Chamberlain sits up in bed, a hand coming down automatically to flick the silence button on the alarm.  He sighs, shoulders slumping beneath the suffocating weight of expectation and duty.

Mechanically he pushes himself out of the bed he’d only collapsed into a mere three hours ago. The reports that he spent half the night compiling and summarizing are neatly stacked upon his desk, though, and the sight of them fills him with mingled pride and exasperation. Pride at his ability to consolidate a mountain of needlessly verbose documents into a sleek and streamlined packet that fits easily into a small folder. Exasperation at the knowledge that there is a roughly 3% chance that Noctis will do anything more than glance at the documents he carefully prepared, shuffle some of the pages so that it looks like he went through them properly, and then abandon them on the coffee table to be buried beneath a mountain of candy wrappers and comics.

He remembers being told that he is to be the pillar that will support Noctis where he is weakest. Lately it feels like Noctis is weak in every aspect of his duties, and Ignis is being ground down into a fine powder beneath the weight of Noctis’s demands.

Sighing he pads into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and fix himself a bowl of cereal. Moping will serve no purpose other than to take up more of his valuable time and he cannot afford that. He’s barely scraping together a few hours at the end of a workday to sleep as it is, and he’s lucky to steal a few minutes between appointments to inhale a protein bar or down a mug of coffee. He needs to run his day like a well-oiled machine if he has any hope of performing his duties to the standards expected of House Scientia. Not working himself into the ground is a distant secondary consideration as well.

The day begins like so many others. He readies himself quickly, slipping into a neatly pressed suit, grabbing his briefcase and a thermos of coffee on his way out the door. He has to stop at tailor’s to retrieve a new uniform jacket for the Prince, since he noticed that His Highness is showing far too much wrist at the cuffs. Then it’s off to the Prince’s apartment to prepare a far more substantial breakfast than his own and clean up whatever mess the sixteen-year-old managed to make since Ignis left last night before getting him bundled off to school in his new jacket. Then a morning full of Council meetings, an audience with the King afterwards, a meeting with Cor regarding the Crownsguard training he hasn’t had time for lately, another Council meeting which he will need to excuse himself from early to pick Noctis up from school. If he’s lucky he can get in a few minutes of studying while he waits in the car, and then it will be off to a private tuition session with the Prince, followed by helping him with his homework while also again attempting to steal a few moments to glance over his own textbooks. After that he imagines Noctis will relocate to the couch to play games while Ignis cleans the apartment and prepares dinner. Afterwards he will return to the Citadel just long enough to retrieve a copy of the minutes for the meeting he left early so that when he’s up until midnight summarizing his notes for Noctis he can also review those and add them to his summary if they prove to be relevant.

And then lather, rinse and repeat with little changing day to day other than the specific subject of a meeting or tutoring session, or whether it’s Cor, Clarus, His Majesty or some other official who monopolizes his lunch hour. The lyrics change but the tune remains the same as his mother was fond of saying.

The day passes much as expected, in a haze of exhaustion with the occasional moment of coffee-fuelled alertness. Anyone else would have been alarmed by the weak, trembling feeling in his hands, and they would have noticed the dark shadows invading his field of vision, dimming and erasing the edges of his world. Anyone else would have gone home and gone to bed long before what happened to Ignis happened to them.

Ignis watches in the rearview mirror as Noctis slowly makes his way towards the sleek black Crown-issued sedan. The Prince moves with an unhurried stride, his nose an inch away from his phone screen, presumably texting Prompto or playing one of those mobile games that Ignis fails to see the appeal in. A tiny voice in the back of his mind implores Noctis to hurry up – they’re already behind schedule, Ignis was a few minutes late picking him up from school thanks to nearby road construction and detours, and they will only fall further behind as there’s no way to avoid it en-route to Noct’s apartment.

When the Prince is finally within range of the car Ignis unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the car door, moving with fluid grace to the rear passenger door, opening it for his Prince with a modest bow.

Or at least he intends to.

He does manage to get the door open, and Noctis is about to slide onto the padded leather seat when Ignis suddenly wobbles in place. As if in slow-motion he sees the ground swirling before his eyes, rising steadily to meet his suddenly numb body.

It’s only when he hits the asphalt with a sickening thump and a jolt of agony that he realizes that the ground didn’t move, but rather he fell face first at his Prince’s feet.

The last thing that he remembers hearing is the Prince’s startled cry of “Specs?!?” before his senses fade into the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness.

A throbbing pain and a bone-deep ache greet Ignis when he eventually surfaces into the world of the conscious. Eyes closed, he carefully takes inventory of his injuries. Nothing seems to be broken, probably just scraped and bruised. The worst damage has likely been done to his pride.

“You with us there, Specs?”

Tired green eyes slowly open, and a blurry black and white image slowly coalesces into an upside-down view the Prince’s features, peering worriedly down at him. It takes him a few moments to realize that the soft, lumpy something cradling his head is the prince’s lap.

Mortified and ashamed at using his Crown prince in such an undignified manner he attempts to right himself. “Apologies, Highness,” he murmurs in a voice made flimsy with weakness. “Please allow me to-.”

“Shut up,” Noctis snaps and Ignis goes stiff with alarm. Is Noctis angry with him? He has every right to be, of course. All he had to do was pick him up from school and drive him home. It’s a simple enough task that almost anyone could do, yet here he lies, a broken failure of a Chamberlain.

A hand drifts into Ignis’s field of vision and for a confused second he wonders if Noctis is about to strike him – which would be grossly out of character for the Prince, but then again passing out on the job is grossly out of character for Ignis. Instead though all he feels is a soothing brush of fingertips against his brow, combing through tangles of fine sandy hair.

“Just lie there quietly, ok? Gladio’s on the way,” Noctis says, his tone soft, tremulous with obvious concern.

Ignis hums in quiet acknowledgment and closes his eyes.

He must have drifted off again because the next thing he knows he’s laid out atop a marvellously soft bed that feels more like a bed of candyfloss than a mattress, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It’s familiar, he realizes after a moment. He’s just not accustomed to viewing it from this angle, sprawled on his back. He’s in the guest room of Noct’s apartment, where Prompto usually stays. There’s even a plush chocobo next to his pillow from the last time the blonde stayed the night.

He can hear soft voices drifting down the hall from the next room.

“I didn’t know, how was I supposed to know? No one ever tells me these things!”

“What, you think the cleanliness fairies come by your place twice a day to pick up after you? Or the paperwork pixies prepare those reports? Of course it’s Iggy. He does everything for you, on top of his own schoolwork and Crownsguard training – which is also for your eventual benefit might I add.”

“I’m sorry!” Noct cries, followed by a sharp shushing sound from Gladio.

“Keep it down, Charmless. You’ll wake him. And Titan’s rock hard fucking dick he needs all the shut eye he can get.”

“I know!” Noctis hisses in a furious whisper. “I know that now, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Good to hear. Don’t apologize to me, though. Apologize to Iggy when he’s feeling better.”

There’s a pause, soft words that don’t quite travel to Ignis’s ear.

“Yeah, he’d like that, Highness. See, it’s not so hard, being considerate of other people, huh?” A sharp smacking sound rends the air and Gladio chuckles. Noct must have punched him, though obviously not hard, likely not in genuine anger.

An hour or so later (it’s hard to tell, he keeps drifting in and out of wakefulness) the door to the guest room creaks open a few inches and a pair of wide blue eyes peek shyly at Ignis through the gap.  Smiling meekly, the young Advisor lifts a hand in greeting before letting his arm flop limply at his side.

“Hey Specs,” Noctis murmurs, opening the door fully and walking into the room. “Howya doing?”

Elbows digging into the mattress, Ignis pushes himself to a partially reclined position. His head spins and he closes his eyes for a moment until the world rights itself once more.

“Well enough,” he finally says.

The Prince moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his pale fingers twisting together anxiously. Ignis’s heart jolts at the sight and he forces himself to sit upright, blinking away the remnants of exhaustion that still threaten the edges of his consciousness.

“Hungry…?” Noctis says softly and, misunderstanding it for a request and not a question, Ignis nods and swings his legs over the side of the mattress. “Of course, I’m so sorry, Noctis. What would you like? I’ll make whatever you wish by way of apology for my earlier failures.”

Noctis shakes his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “No, Ignis. Are _you_ hungry?”

It shouldn’t be a difficult question to answer, but somehow it is. He’s so accustomed to putting his own wants and even needs aside that he hardly knows how to gauge his own body’s demands. After a few thoughtful moments he eventually nods.

“Good, ‘cause I kinda ordered all of your favourites. Just gimmie a minute to heat it up.”

Warmth floods Ignis’s exhausted, neglected body. “Highness … Noct. You didn’t have to do that.”

Sapphire eyes roll dismissively. “Considering that you’ve been working yourself into the ground on my behalf, Specs, yeah I kinda did. And I need to do a lot more for you, too.”

Ignis shakes his head slowly.

“Yes, Ignis. I do. Gladio helped me make up a chore calendar so I can keep on top of everything around here so you don’t have to. He’ll pick me up from school Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays when I have training with him, and he’ll drop me off here afterwards so you’re not running around so much. And, and… I’ll study with Prompto after school,” at Ignis’s doubtful look he presses on “No really. Like actually study. No videogames until we’re done of our homework and everything, so I won’t need as much help from you.”

“Noctis…” Ignis blinks against the veil of tears obscuring his vision. “What on Eos did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful friend?”

A wet bubble of laughter spills from Noct’s lips. He sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Don’t be stupid. You’re the best, Ignis. The best. You deserve the whole damn world.”

Their arms tangle together in a tight embrace, neither of them certain who made the first move, they simply fall into each other like magnets, only tearing themselves away from each other when Ignis’s stomach growls, and Noctis, laughingly, heads to the kitchen to heat up the container of tomalley-filled dumplings and wild rice he’d ordered for his friend.

 

 

 

 


End file.
